


The Would Be Kings

by PollyPocketChewer



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Sleepy Bois Inc, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Be gentle, Dadza, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First fanfic!, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Character Death, Parent Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Past Child Abuse, Piglin Hybrid Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF), Piglin Technoblade (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28633710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PollyPocketChewer/pseuds/PollyPocketChewer
Summary: Phil lives with his son Wilbur in an old shack. Their life is a bit chaotic but it is about to get more chaotic now that Phil rescued a piglin from a massacre and brought him home.First time fanfic for this so I'm going to try my best!!
Comments: 28
Kudos: 159





	1. No you cant name him

He heard the sounds of yelling long before he saw the chaos. Sighing heavily the instant it dawned on him that he was partially responsible for the village to be in an uproar. The butcher behind the iron counter doing his best to stifle the rising snickers as he took the emeralds. 

"He can't spend two minutes without causing some trouble, can he?" 

"At least he's consistent." The booming laugh follows him out the door and he finally gets a glimpse at the mayhem he helped sow. 

There's at least three men, dressed in the stereotypical farming gear, buff and hairy arms raised high with pitchforks as they yell inappropriate language. Chasing down a criminal who hardly looks the part. A child, smile wide and giggles bubbling out of his lips, was racing ahead of them and darting between the crowds that looked on in confusion. 

He was only four years old, recently having mastered tying his shoes and not putting his shirt on backwards. Insisting that he do everything on his own because he was a big kid now. Yet still crying the moment something went wrong. Fluffy brown curls untamed and getting in the way of his vision but not slowing down his momentum at all. 

The crowd laughs at his antics, though some sigh and shake their heads. All too familiar with his behavior at this point. Sure, most kids at this age were hyper. Full of energy and wanting to explore the world...

...but this one in particular had determination. 

And that caused a great deal of headaches for those around him. 

He dived under a poor startled librarian's legs. Didn't offer any apology or care that his hands were now covered in dirt. Reaching out as he ran past a house to grab a single red flower from the flowerpot by the window. 

Too intelligent for his own good sometimes. A feral little grin on his face as he spies his target. Racing up to it a bit out of breath as the farmers are slowed by the crowd behind him. He held out the flower and an ally-ship was formed instantly. 

When the farmers finally got through, they froze in their tracks. Eyes wide as the lumbering beast glared down at them. Daring to try anything. An iron golem was a protector of a village for sure. Would kill anything that dared harmed one of its precious humans but they had a soft spot for kids and an even softer spot for flowers. 

Upon its shoulder now sat the boy, swinging his legs back and forth without a care in the world. Sticking out his tongue when the men glared at him. They grumbled their final curses and turned back home. Muttering how it wasn't worth it. That they could spare a few pieces of food. 

Golem and child waved them goodbye and that's when he was spotted. The exhaustion on his features going unnoticed as his son waved to him from his perch and loudly cried out a hello. 

"Good luck with that one, Phil." A woman chuckled from the well nearby and he gave her the best smile he could manage. Just to have her laugh harder at his expense. Moving the bag to one arm, he approached the golem and gestured out with his free hand.

"Honestly, Wilbur. What did you do this time?"

The golem held out its own arm in exchange. Letting the boy slide down into his father's embrace and then slid to his own two feet. Where he wobbled for a moment and straightened. Smiling back up with all of the innocence he truly didn't have. 

"Just borrowed a watermelon!" 

"Uh-huh...you know you're supposed to ask nicely right?"

"I did!"

"When?"

"After I took it!" 

Phil could only sigh at that. Knowing that was a lesson for when they were home. Offering his hand out and only slightly grimacing as the mud covered one slipped into his own. He's been covered in worse things thanks to Wilbur so it wasn't awful but it wasn't the greatest feeling either. With a wave goodbye to the golem, they set off out of the village and down the path. 

Little feet skipping unsteadily and occasionally needing to be righted again by the older man. It was a bit of awkward silence, save for the out of tune humming the boy supplied, and his father decided to intervene before the melody got out of hand. 

"Did you seen any other kids today?"

He saw Wilbur's face twist into a grimace out of the corner of his eye. "Yeah..." He muttered, his tone showing just how much he didn't want to have this conversation. "But I don't like them." Ah, the joys of unfiltered children.

"Why's that?"

"They don't play right!"

Translation: They didn't like Wilbur's 'rules'.

"Ah, well not everyone can be as creative as you." 

"...what's creev-tive?"

"Cree-a-tive." Phil sounded out the word slowly and watched his song repeat it back until he got it right. "It means you have a lot of things you think about and you want to try them more than other people do. But not everyone is the same type of creative...so you got to let other people play their way!" 

He could see he was losing his son and he had to admit to himself, yes this was a hard concept for a four year old to take on but they'd get there eventually. Wilbur was a fast learner. 

"Don't think too hard about it." He often told him, chuckling a bit as Wilbur brightened back up instantly. "Since you took that watermelon, why don't we have it for dessert tonight?"

"I don't got it anymore!"

"...where did it go?"

"In the river! It made the biggest splash! Like BWOOSH!" One hand raised to emphasize this. Eyes wide like he couldn't even believe it. 

"...only my son would steal a watermelon just to throw it into a river..."

"I'm gonna go play with Friend!!" Phil barely had time to get the door open before his son was racing through the house. Making a beeline for the backdoor and standing on his tiptoes to grab the handle. 

"Wilbur! Don't let that sheep into the house!"

"I won't!!!" He would. A constant side effect of telling his son he could have one pet and the boy immediately choosing a sheep over something normal like a cat or a dog. A thing that could not and would not be trained no matter how hard Phil tried and had to be leashed out back to prevent it from traveling insane distances. Leaving behind a crying and anxious little boy. 

Phil didn't hate the sheep but he can't help but stare into its eyes and think the sheep is planning a hostile takeover on his life. 

He sighed, choosing to ignore the impending doom for now and set his bags on the counter. Fishing out the various supplies from his trip to the village. Mostly food for the ever growing boy who was now running in circles screaming outside. Who craved meat but would give it up in a heartbeat if he knew where it came from. 

They had a small garden off to the side of their home but the weather wasn't the kindest where they lived. A good walk away from the village. Transitioning from a spring time warmth to a marshy wetland in a blink of an eye. Floods, slimes, the works knocking at their door. 

And moving wasn't an option until Phil could take time to gather money and supplies for the trip. Four year olds never gave time for anything really. Washed hands and groceries, put away with a lack of organization that came long ago when Wilbur learned how to open doors. 

He glanced down at his handprinted clothes and decided a bath and a change was needed. And judging by the loud splash he just heard outside, he wouldn't be the only one to need it. "Wilbur...?"

"I didn't do it!"

He'll worry about whatever that meant later. "Come inside then, let's take a bath!" 

He heard the slosh of wet shoes on the wood flooring. Daring to look down at his soaked son who had new streaks of god knows what across his face and hands. An owlish blink on his features. "...why do I need a bath?"

"...we don't have time to list the reasons." Phil shook his head, diving forward to catch the little troublemaker before he could turn tail. Tucking him under one arm with a soft sigh and making his way to the back of the house. There was a bit of fussing. Squirming and whining but not too much fight. Wilbur enjoyed baths even if he didn't like being clean. 

The house itself wasn't much, once an old witch shack long since abandoned by her and her craft. Cobwebs having hung in every corner and weird tools hidden beneath the floorboards. Phil had turned it into an adventurer's bachelor pad originally. 

No intention of staying long and no intention of expanding. Content to sleep on the hard floor and explore whenever he was awake. 

That's when Wilbur dropped into his life. 

Phil had a name for himself. A reputation. A whisper through many villagers about who he was and what he did. That he spent five years of his life honing skills most would envy. Able to fight and live in the most treacherous lands with little to his name. Not afraid to build a staple in lands he thought were cool enough for it. 

So when he had passed through the village for trading in his goods, people approached him. Asked for his stories. Children eager to try and hold his weapons and pretend to be him. He brushed off their praises. Thankful but not wanting to bother them further. 

Until a cleric approached him with a question he wasn't expecting. Asking if he knew of a village with an orphanage. 

It was a rare sight, yes. This world, this culture, rarely were children left abandoned. He had seen maybe two total in his travels and they were far beyond the reach of this village. When he asked why, there was a strange hush over the village. Their gossip grinding to a halt as they shared worried glances.

Wilbur had been someone no one wanted to talk about. A taboo. They most likely knew his parents. They had most likely been there when he was abandoned. And way too many families in the village just couldn't support one more child. The cleric stepping up to take him into the church until something proper could be done. 

Phil was introduced to a baby. Small, wrapped in donated cloth, dark eyes barely able to stay open once he was held in someone's arms. 

_We don't know what to do._

_He deserves a future._

_If I was stronger I'd take him._

_If the harvest was better this year..._

_If..._ it was always if. 

Phil was no stranger to children. Not afraid to sit with them when he stopped by in villagers, climbed on and chatted to about things he didn't understand. Recreating his adventures with him pretending to be a fearsome enderman and the children fighting him. Exaggerated death scenes and all. 

He gladly held Wilbur as the voices washed over him. Rocked the baby in his arms as he slowly traversed the room. Staring down with one question on his mind.

What could he do? 

He must've said it out loud at some point. Hearing a mother chuckle as she clapped her hand on his shoulder. Jarring him out of his spacing and when he looked to her, she looked him in the eye and back down at the baby.

He already had his answer. 

That's how the shack became a home. Slowly. The villagers coming together with supplies and workers to help. Expanding it to two rooms. Three. All the bells and whistles a single man would need to raise a child. Books given to him from the librarian that would take countless hours just to skim through.

It was overwhelming but it became home. 

"Dad, are you sleeping?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at the boy still in his arms. Dangling much like a lazy cat who had given up. Snorted as he apologized and closed the bathroom door behind him. "Yeah! Cause you're so boring!"

"AM NOT!"

It was a wrestling match to get the boy out of his clothes, barely managing to catch him before he dove head first into the water of the still heating up bath. Letting him wear his hat as he undressed himself and got everything they needed together. Once both of them were soon soaking in the tub, he let himself relax a bit more. Smiling as he watched Wilbur stir up bubbles and make a hat out of them.

"Oh what's this? A crown? Your majesty!"

"I am the king!" Wilbur threw up his hands, a bit of water going everywhere because of it. "The king of...ah..." He paused, his words dying on his tongue. Face scrunching up in thought before he shouted his conclusion. "L'MANBERG!"

"ALL HAIL THE KING!"

A short lived reign as the boy sneezed and off fell his crown. 

"I'm not tired!"

"Yes you are."

"No!"

"Yep."

"Noooo!" The boy whined his words even as he yawned, tucked under the covers of his bright yellow blankets. Shuffling to get the perfect spot and staring up at the man who sat on his bedside. Smiling down at him. "Story." He demanded in a last ditch effort to delay the inevitable. 

"Okay okay, let's see..." He brought a hand to his chin, mentally surfing through the list of stories he's told his son over the years. Wilbur could be picky. Not the best memory but he would sometimes cut in and edit the story himself. "...well, since you were a king today...how about I tell you the story of the nether king!"

His son perked up with more energy than before. Hands gripping tight to his blanket in eager anticipation. "Nebber king..." He whispered back, completely mispronouncing nether.  
"You remember what I told you about the nether before?"

"It's a big scary hot place!" 

"That's right! Lots of scary monsters down there! ...but there's also pigs!" Wilbur looked stunned at this revelation. Absolutely floored. His entire world turned upside down by a single sentence and he quickly pushed out of bed. Crawling to the window that rested behind the headrest and heaving himself to look out at the marsh behind it.

Where a single pink pig roamed the edge of the water, snorting its nose through the mud in search of something to eat. Appropriately named 'Fatso' by Wilbur. He pointed at the pig, as if silently asking for clarification if that's where the pig went when they didn't see him and Phil chuckled. Reaching out to draw the child back into bed. 

"Not those kind of pigs. These pigs, called Piglins, are pigs that walk like you and me! People pigs!" He held his arms out. "And these people pigs have their own village! They love gold and have really cool music!"

"But they don't like anyone new to their village and live by the word of their king! The pig with the most gold ever!"

"How much?"

"Er-........six!"

"That's a lot!"

"Yes, yes it is! Can you show me how many fingers that is?" He waited, watching the child slowly work his way through counting before holding up exactly six fingers. "Good job!"

"Do you know the king?!"

"Well I've seen him once or twice." It wasn't a lie. The times he's gone into the nether he's come face to face with the piglins. Who would look at him in disdain until they saw the gold he wore. Practically drooling as they welcomed him in. The king was no different. 

Their language wasn't anything like theirs. Grunts and snorts and other pig noises but they could make gestures that got their point across. With various expressions to follow suit. He gathered pretty quickly on his first visit that he was welcome for as long as he had gold. When it ran out, they chased him from their castle in droves. 

"Sometimes, I help villages by going to the nether and trading with the piglins for them!"

He could see those eyelids drooping, the exhaustion taking over. All of the excitement pushing the little boy to the edge of dreamland. "Maybe when you're a big boy, I'll show you them."

"I wanna go...I'm big."

"Nah, still pretty small. You've got to be as tall as me, okay?"

"I'm gonna be taller."

"That's going to take a lot of vegetables and milk buddy." He patted the boy gently on the stomach. Watching those eyes close briefly, open again and then close once more. A whispered goodnight escaping him as he pushed up off the bed and turned off the lantern. 

Careful to shut the door to the room quietly as he could and he released a sigh once he didn't hear any shuffling. Successful in his mission of getting the kid to bed. 

Only to let out a shriek when a loud bleat erupted from behind him and he whirled around to find the dyed wool of an all too familiar sheep. Friend blinking at him emotionlessly in the middle of the room. 

"DAD?!"

"It's...it's alright, Wilbur! Friend just startled me is all."

"Is Friend okay?!"

"...yes, he's fine." He glared at the sheep in question, gesturing to the open door leading out to the fenced in yard. The sheep of course, didn't listen. "Go back to sleep."

"Friend can sleep in my bed!"

...it was going to be a long night.

"I don't wanna!"

"Wilbur, buddy, I got to go do some work. I can't leave you at home or take you with me. Remember why?"

"...because I'll get hurt but I'll be super good!"

"I know you will but you can still get hurt when you're good." He ruffled the boy's hair, earning a pout and a stomp of the foot but he ingored it as he kept walking. Sighing softly to himself. "Won't it be fun to see J again? And Mrs.Schlatt makes such good cookies!"

"J is weird!"

"Wilbur..."

"He's got horns!!!!"

"Wilbur, remember we don't call people weird just because they look different. Lots of people have animal features! Remember the pig people?" It seemed to calm the boy down for just a moment, a pout still on his features but he was quieter. Glaring at the ground as he walked. "It won't be long, I promise. I'll be back before you know it."

"...can you get me a cool thing?"

"I'll find you the coolest thing I see today!"

"And something for Friend?!"

"...and something for Friend." A handful of grass should do just fine. 

They neared the house on the outskirt of the village. With a fenced in yard similar to their own. A small child visible doing his best to peek through the fence and once he spotted them, he ran inside. Phil couldn't help a little smile on his face as he reached to knock on the door and it was answered in under a second.

J, the child, was unusual in appearance to many. More like a sheep than a human. With fluffy white loose fur across his skin and the budding horns like a ram. Two long ears that twitched on the side of his face. He wore an oversized blue sweater, which made him look a lot like Friend in hindsight. 

Instead of saying hello, he bleated loudly and took off running. 

"J!" A woman yelled as she rushed to the door. "We say hello with words!!" Too late, he was gone. She sighed, hand to her cheek and looked to Phil apologetically. "He's been excited all morning."

"So has Wilbur!" He lied, pressing his hand on the boy's head to keep him from protesting and sharing a laugh with Mrs.Schlatt. "It shouldn't be a long trip. I'm just heading out to the desert city to run some deliveries."

"Of course! Wilbur, I just finished making some cookies!" The child perked up at that, pushing past her without a goodbye to his father and raced for the kitchen. Earning a smile from both parents. "Be safe, Phil."

"Always." 

The door closed him out as he heard his son ask how many he could have in one sitting and he reached into his pocket to draw out the crude map he's never bothered to update. Crinkling in his grasp from paper decades old.

He borrowed a horse from the stables, brown with fluffy white feet and golden armor that reflected the sun like a beacon. Not at all subtle but would be easy to spot in the desert should it wander off. 

One of the fastest of the bunch too, he knew from memory. 

The trip would be an hour at most and he was thankful for it. Hearing the grass grow dryer under the heavy hooves until it faded into a steady trot on the more slippery sand terrain. Firm footsteps that required a break every now and then to rest before they crested the hill overlooking the city. 

Compared to the village near home, it was three times the size and bustling with life. A full market dead in the center of it all and people calling out their wares to tourists and the like. He found the stable where stone marked a pathway and greeted the man who took his horse. 

A bit unnerved to find no smile waiting for him. 

"Everything alright, Lester?" He asked as he watched the man gather up the bridle and lead the horse into a stall. Those dark eyes looking over his shoulder and towards the entrance as if expecting someone else to come barging in.

The old man sighed, shook his head, "...somethings gotten up their asses today." 

"The horses?"

"The cityfolk." Lester scoffed, waving his hand. "...something spooked them and the leaders aren't talking. Trying to keep it hush-hush and won't answer any questions. Best be on your guard today, Phil."

Unusual. Phil noted but nodded in response. Adjusting his hat as he thanked Lester and made his way towards the inner city. Though now that he got a closer look, he could indeed see why the man was on edge. Tourists looked none the wiser but the regulars were looking to each new face with suspicion. 

Children were nowhere to be found. Tucked inside their homes no doubt. Iron Golems roamed in excess and the bell, a warning signal for all, was guarded by a man on a post above it. 

He brushed past strangers that gave his clothing a confused glance here or there. His obviously out of place blond hair and blue eyes. The coat that nearly dragged along the ground behind him. The green that stood out amongst the sandy décor. 

Pushed his way to the town hall. An impressive tower attached to a longer building for meetings. Didn't bother to knock as the door creaked loud enough to alert everyone inside that he was there.

And once he stood in the doorway in front of the leaders, he could feel almost a collective sigh of relief echo out from them.

"Phil..." A man stood up from the desk, someone he didn't recognize but knew his name. Young and barely a sign of facial hair but when he stood-the others parted as if they were his junior. The new head leader of the city, he'd have to assume. "Though you've shown up at the best time for us, I must apologize."

"What's wrong?" He assumed a raid was close. That they had somehow gotten warning of thieves coming to pillage and kill them. He'd seen plenty in his explorations. Knew sometimes it took a whole team to take down the lot. Especially in the desert where many of their bases lay hidden. 

The leaders exchanged glances and the one who had stood sighed. Motioned for the man to follow him and took the door to the tower. As Phil followed him in and up the ladder, it became obvious they were going to the very top. Where they could see everything.

Now he questioned if it was something even worse than a raid. Perhaps a new monster? Or rising lava? 

Neither, it would be. Instead, the leader pointed him towards the temple on the hill. Where the entrance glowed a vibrant purple. Particles dancing off of it. A deep heavy dark edging to it that could not be mistaken for anything else.

A portal to the nether. 

It almost made Phil snort a laugh. Leaning on the warm sandstone in front of him as he dared to joke, "Someone anger a piglin huh?"

"Last night..." The leader began, a softness to his voice. Worry lacing his tone. "...last night many of us were woken up by horrific screams from that portal. It was as if hundreds of voices were all screaming at the same time. It lasted...it lasted for maybe a few minutes...and then there was just...silence." He crossed his arms over his chest. "...a child woken up by the screams claimed to see a bright light flash through it."

"...were they human screams?" 

"...not any humans I've heard before, no." A pause. "There's...a bastion, just short of that entrance. I'm sure you know. Many piglin lived there. I've never heard one scream but...if I had to imagine it..."

Phil frowned, unable to begin to imagine the sound himself. Piglin were brave, to a fault. Nothing could scare them. They'd fight to the death with honor. Even the small ones, children, they would not hesitate to take up a sword when threatened. 

"I'd hate to ask this of you but our city's soldiers have been out clearing an area for farmland for the past few nights. And no wanderers have come through that would be willing..."

"I'll take a look. I can't promise anything but I certainly know when to back out. I'll survey the area and get back to you with what I found." The leader looked relieved, glad he didn't truly have to ask Phil directly and he smiled back. "For payment, how about my favorite food at the inn for free?"

"Take that and all the emeralds in my pockets."

They shared a chuckle and he climbed the sandstone. Perched precariously on the edge before he dropped down. Hearing the yell from the leader but he landed nimbly on a hay bale below. Waving as he set off towards the temple. 

His hand tapped the hilt of his sword by his waist as he neared the portal. His heart slightly pounding faster with the uncertainty of what he was about to walk into. Repeating a mantra in his head over and over again that he had a son to get home to. That this was just an information recon mission. 

Get in, look around, get out. Safely. 

Stopping short of the portal, he took a deep breath. Did his best to calm his nerves and retain his focus before he stepped through. 

A wave of heat overtook him instantly. Feeling a bead of sweat already trickling down his forehead and his nose dried up something terrible. The nether was as oppressive as always. Not even a step in and it was reminding him of why he rarely ventured in. 

The heat fog was dense, the red stone around him making it hard to focus and there was no breeze to be found to give him relief from the stagnant air. 

Lucky to have the entrance a dug in path through the netherrack, he was safe from any airborne threat or enderman that might be lurking about. Yet it wouldn't take but a second for a skeleton to turn the corner. He squinted through the haze, finding an old withering sign that pointed the direction towards the bastion. 

He did his best to keep his steps quiet as he ventured forward. Eyes trained on the path in front of him but ears listening for any sign of life. As he neared the turn he knew he should be hearing them by now. Snorts and grunts of guards at the entrance or their music, bounding through the bastion as those on break enjoyed their time. 

Yet he was greeted by only silence save for the perking of lava in the distance. 

He poked his head around the corner slightly. Not daring to stick his body or head for fear of an arrow going through it and sure enough, no guards at the entrance. Suspicious. Extremely, since they would have shifts to maintain the area twenty-four seven. 

Daring to venture closer he found a piece of the bastion was crumbling. Worn over the many many years and gave the perfect perch to get out of the way of any guards that might be coming back. Stretching muscles he'd forgotten he had as he hoisted himself to the ledge and peered over it. 

Bastions were often filled with holes. Making traversing them as humans difficult and dangerous. Yet this also gave the advantage when up high. You could see nearly every floor in some direction. 

Head moving back and forth, scanning every bit that he could see, no sign of life as far as he could tell.

Until suddenly he spotted a flash of dull pink and he perked up. Knowing well enough that was the skin of a piglin. He reached into his pocket, drawing out a golden badge to wear to entice the piglins into letting him converse with them and he dropped down to ask the fellow a question. 

As soon as his feet touched the stone, he knew he wouldn't get an answer. The gold utterly unnecessary. 

What he thought was a piglin leaning against the wall turned out to be a corpse. Blood soaked in the leather of their clothing, parts of them missing. Body limp but in a position that suggests they were thrown there. 

Alarm ran through him and he thought to climb back up before someone saw him with this body and assumed he did it-...just to see another to his right. Then another and another. 

The hallway was littered with bodies. Brutes, children, guards, civilians. All in various states of destruction. Frozen in time of fear and abuse. 

His heart beat hurriedly against his chest and while every part of him screamed to run back home, curiosity overtook his movements. Making him take a step further into the chaos. Soon steps became hurried and he broke into a flat out run as he passed by more and more. 

It was a mass extinction and there was no sign of what could have caused it. 

There was claw marks sure but also teeth wounds and boiling water. Fires that burned bright on what netherrack cut through the stone walls. Giant holes struck through the floor that were clearly not made intentionally and occasionally a piglin suffered the same fate. 

A treasure room lay ahead, marked by stands many guards would sit upon. With weapons littering the ground abandoned. This had to be a robbery, he told himself. That maybe other piglins had turned on them or worse. 

But no, the gold blocks stood still. Untouched. Not a single scuff on them to show they had even been breathed on. 

Something that hadn't wanted riches came through here.

Something that seemed to be killing mercilessly. 

Now, he decided, it was time to go home. Before whatever that was found him. He turned around-brain revolving around the idea that he should recommend the portal be closed altogether in the overworld when suddenly a sound caught him off guard. 

It was faint, it was distant, but it sounded undeniably like a pig. 

Phil froze in his tracks. Eyes widening and not trusting himself that he wasn't hearing things when the sound rang out again. Echoing from downstairs deeper into the bastion. 

"I'm going to get myself fucking killed over a piglin." He told himself as he started moving towards the noise. Dropping down on a floor below and grunting with the toll it took on his knees. Listening out for the sound that seemed to grow closer but weaker as he approached.

The bottom of the treasure room would lead out onto a stone bridge surrounded by lava. Where the piglins often used the magma dwelling monsters to their advantage. The blistering heat almost too much to bear. There was no sign of monsters, thankfully but there was another flash of pink. 

And there, trapped under a fallen block of obsidian, was the smallest piglin he had ever seen in his life. Perked ears yet to flop over, a straight stubby tail, skin bright and pastel as though it had barely ever moved from one spot. Black hoof like fingers splayed out where it had been trying to drag itself away. 

Naked and splattered with a bit of blood. 

It let out another weak little noise, seemingly giving up on freeing itself and laid its head down against the stone. Not even noticing as Phil began to approach it. When the man knelt down beside it, he could see it barely was the length of his arm from fingers to elbow. 

He hadn't thought to bring a pickaxe with him, something he regretted but luckily kept a chisel of similar material on him at all times. It wasn't great for resource collecting but it could surely free a tiny hoof from obsidian. 

The first tink sound it made had the piglin lifting its head, looking around warily before spotting him and he gave his best cheery wave. White eyes stared back at him, blinked once, twice. 

And then it screamed. 

He nearly threw the chisel from surprise, cringing as he recognized that scream. A cry often used to summon other piglin to battle. When one was hurt or scared and needed backup. 

"SHHHH!!!" He pleaded, making the shushing motion with his hand. "Are you trying to get me killed?!??! I'm trying to help you!!!" The man scrambled back to work, hurrying with the chisel in an effort to free the baby before reinforcements arrived...or worse. 

Yet as the scream died down and silence followed save for his work, it dawned on both of them that no one would be coming. 

"...you're the last one." He said absentmindedly, glad the baby couldn't understand him. Last thing he needed was to traumatize a kid in the middle of a murder scene. It didn't respond, ears perked and waiting for the sound of approaching hooves and the occasional huff of breath like it was preparing for another yell. 

He finished before that could happen. Freeing the child enough that it could pull its hoof out and when it did, he could see a deep disgusting bruise quickly blossoming across it. Not broken but certainly not something it could walk on. Otherwise, unharmed.

The baby tried immediately regardless, pushing up onto all fours like a regular pig and squealing when it put pressure on the wound. Limping on three legs instead and trying to scramble away. It made it maybe two steps before collapsing. 

Throwing a fit like a toddler who didn't get its way. 

Phil couldn't help but snort at the flailing baby. 

"...I don't think you're going to make it far, mate." He said as he stood, pocketing the chisel once more. Looming over the child who glared at him warily. "...how about I find you another bastion to stay at...? This isn't much of a home now."

He wasn't going to get a reply and deemed his idea a better option than leaving the poor thing to the elements. Crouching down to scoop it up into his grasp and held it out. "...oh, you're a male. Got it."

The little guy gave an indignant snort as if that was obvious. 

It made Phil laugh, shaking his head as he switched the baby into his one arm. Careful with his leg. Reaching his free hand over his back to pull up his coat somewhat. "...haven't had to use these in ages, let's hope I still remember how to fly." 

The wings unfurled from underneath it, expanding to their full wingspan and he caught sight of the piglin's eyes widening. Staring at them with what could best be described as awe. 

"Alright then, let's find that Bastion!"

"I'm sure the storm is just making him late, Wilbur." Mrs.Schlatt frowned as she watched the boy stare out the window. Not flinching at the sound of thunder or the flashes of lightning. Head in his hands as he waits impatiently. J isn't too far away, somewhat perched up beside him and ears flicking with every noise. "Nasty thing to travel in."

"What if he's dead?" The boy said more curiously than upset. Tilting head to look back at her for an answer. 

"Wilbur!" She was about to scold him when J suddenly bleated and all eyes turned towards the door right before someone knocked on it. Mrs.Schlatt jumped to her feet and wrenched it open, finding Phil on the other side utterly drenched. "Good heavens man! Get in, get in! You could've taken shelter! I would've watched your boy the entire night!"

She barely caught his chuckle as he trudged in, wings exposed for once and now shaking off the excess water. Not bothering to apologize for what it did to her floor. She didn't seem to mind, already fetching a towel for him. 

Wilbur bounced off the chair by the window and raced over, tugging on his father's wet coat until the man smiled down at him through his mop of wet hair and hat. "Miss me?"

"No!" The boy lied instantly and he barked a laugh. "What did you bring me?"

"Wilbur!" Mrs.Schlatt called again as she returned with the towel and ushered the man towards the lit fireplace. "Let your father rest!"

"Sorry to bother you, Mrs.Schlatt but is there any chance you could bring a second towel?"

"Oh-sure! You are quite soaked!"

"It's not for me."

She paused in the entrance to her laundry area. Giving him a confused look but he just smiled back at her. She grabbed the towel quick and returned just as he took a seat on his own by the fire. Setting a bundle down in his lap. 

A bundle that started to move. 

He took off his hat and set it aside as Wilbur and J started to inch closer. Their eyes trained on the moving cloth and he could see their eyes widen in anticipation of a dog or cat. When the two little ears poked out first, they both gasped loudly. 

"...you brought your son a pig?" Mrs.Schlatt sighed, knowing the trouble he already had with the pet sheep. 

"...not exactly." Phil reached forward and helped get the rest of it off and the baby piglin sat there stunned. Looking around as if he was disoriented by the new surroundings and scents. 

The reaction was almost immediate. J let loose an alarmed noise, practically growling as he darted away and hid under his mother's legs. She herself gasped loudly, a hand flying to her cheek and heart. Jaw dropping open in shock. And Wilbur practically screeched with joy. 

"YOU BROUGHT ME A PEOPLE PIG!!!"

Phil laughed, spreading his hands out in a dramatic flair. "Even better!" When Wilbur looked like he might explode, he exclaimed, "Wilbur! Meet your new baby brother!"

"CAN I NAME HIM!?"

"Haha!...no."


	2. Where Have I heard that before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil gets grounded by his new baby, literally.

"So there I was, flying through the Nether-" Phil was saying, his hands gesturing as he spoke. Two sets of enraptured eyes on him and another rolling. Mrs.Schlatt had heard enough of his stories to know when he exaggerated and when he was telling the truth. 

"When suddenly, three large ghasts-the biggest I've ever seen!-appeared out of thin air! Screeching at me! Their mouths blazing with fire!" 

Wilbur and J didn't know what ghasts were but they gasped all the same. No doubt imagining dragons or the ugly cat that roamed the village. 

"I couldn't fight them! I was surrounded and I had to protect this little guy!" He gestured to the piglin who was now dry and sat in his lap. Chewing at the towel that had been wrapped around him. "I just barely managed to escape! Flying the wrong way! Knowing my best chance was to make it back through the portal and back home!"

"Did you die?!" Wilbur asked immediately and Phil resisted the urge to snort at that. The answer obvious. 

"I didn't die, I flew straight through the portal and crash landed on the other side in the sand! We were safe!"

"Oh really?" Mrs.Schlatt interrupted then, both hands placed upon her hips and gaze staring him down with all the fury only a mother could possess. "Care to explain how you broke your wing then?"

He grimaced, glancing to the one wing in question. That definitely had a broken bone through it. An ugly sight but the kids found it more fascinating than disturbing. He had to stop Wilbur from poking it several times now. 

"Well...I had planned to go back in...and search for another Bastion like I said...but..." He reached up, scratching the back of his neck as he looked away. Clearing his throat in an obvious manner that he wanted to change the subject. 

"Phil." 

"...look, it's kind of embarrassing."

As the two adults had a bit of an awkward stare down, the movement between them went unnoticed. Wilbur having taken hold of Phil's good wing as a distraction at some point. Playing with the feathers that would need properly preened afterwards. J beside him occasionally petting one as gently as he could. 

The attention in the room divided, no one saw the piglin also reach for the wing or Wilbur gladly hand it over. Two little hooved hands grasped the top of the wing and after a careful moment of studying it...

...snapped it like a stick. 

Mrs.Schlatt just barely managed to race over and cover Phil's mouth before he could utter curses so foul the children would be repeating them for weeks. 

"I think I know what happened now."

"I'll give you some of J's old things." Her hands moved carefully as they taped up the wings. A bit of a professional with how many children she saw crash themselves in flying practice. When Phil winced however, she didn't apologize. Shaking her head instead. "Honestly, you're such a fool. He'd be better off in the care of some guards."

"Oh come now, Mrs.Schlatt. I know you, you'd feel awful if I left the poor thing without a proper family."

"A proper family doesn't usually involve a baby who can shatter bones!" She wrapped another part and he let loose a squeak of pain. "What about Wilbur?!"

They glanced over to the children once more. Wilbur and J taking turns in making strange noises back at the piglin each time he let loose one of his own. Snorts and grunts and squeals were met with the sound of honks and gibberish. It looked like a ritual to summon the most confused god on the planet. 

The piglin had made no more attempts at grabbing things since his wings. Only occasionally fascinated when he saw something reflective but he wouldn't venture close. Just point to it and Wilbur would explain it with all the confidence of a big brother who knew everything. Even if he got it wrong.

Though the piglin clearly didn't understand, he seemed to enjoy listening to the boy talk in response to his actions.

"Wilbur doesn't have wings-OW!" He flinched when she yanked the last piece of excess tape off and he gave her a sheepish smile. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't think it'd be for the best."

"Sure you wouldn't." She tossed the tape aside with a shake of her head and went to head upstairs. "I'll gather those things and then I want you out of my house before he breaks something more valuable than you!"

"J! Want to learn another name for your mother?"

"PHIL!"

"I'm kidding!” 

He pushed himself up out of the chair. Grunting as his wings adjusted to being wrapped. Finding his coat drying by the fire and he took it off the rack it was set on. Careful to settle it to sit back over them gingerly and hide them away once more. 

He smiled at his son who gave the biggest one back and did the same to the new addition. Though the piglin merely tilted his head at him as if he was crazy. A box shoved at him in the next second and he found himself on the porch of the home in the blink of an eye. Mrs.Schlatt grumbling about how much of a headache he was behind the closed door. 

Still, Phil chuckled. Thankful the rain had stopped and now only the distant sounds of thunder could be heard. Taking Wilbur’s hand and adjusting his hold on the box that the piglin lay nestled in. 

Three steps out and the questions started flooding in.

“Is he going to sleep in my room?!”

“He’s going to be in mine for now, buddy.”

“I’m the big brother right?!”

“Yes...! So you got to look out for him okay?”

“Is he going to get fat like Fatso?!”

“I don’t know, we’ll see.”

And so on and so forth, keeping Phil busy on the walk home and the piglin curiously focused on their chattering. As if he was trying to make sense of it all. 

No sooner did they step into theirr house did Wilbur frantically run in. Scrambling to grab whatever he could that he wanted to show his new brother. Phil kicking the door closed behind him and setting the box on the living area floor. 

The piglin immediately tried to crawl out of it. Ears flicking as he looked around curiously. Nose occasionally twitching but he didn’t make it far. With both his injured leg and the hands that reached out for him keeping him from exploring.

“Oh no you don’t!” Phil laughed as the little guy squealed and flailed in frustration. A mimicry of what he had done in the nether. “You don’t get to go anywhere until we get a nappy on you.” 

Which was easier said than done. 

Wilbur returned with his arms full, pausing to stare at the sight of his father wrestling with a baby pig on the floor. Who had the upper hand it seemed. “...Dad, did he break you again.”

“Not yet but he’s trying!” Phil managed to get his hand free of those sharp little teeth, heaving a loud sigh as the piglin glared and snorted at him angrily. Giving a war cry that would be fearsome in the nether but out here it was just an unhappy piglet. “Come on now, you need to wear this.”

He held up the diaper in question, earning a growl from the baby and Wilbur set his stuff down to crouch nearby. Looking between the baby and the diaper. “Dad, maybe he doesn’t like the color blue!” The child pointed at the design on front. Which was blue with hints of the ocean. 

“...can he even seen color?” Phil muttered but since nothing else was working, he dug back into the bag of diapers and pulled out another. This one with a yellow beach design. To his surprise, the piglin perked up immediately. Letting out a curious noise and reaching for the diaper. 

“...well I’ll be damned, Wilbur you were right...” He trailed off in a whisper, letting the pig have the diaper to inspect and watched the little guy run his hooves over the yellow design. Then it clicked and he slammed a palm against his face. Making both boys jump. “...gold. He thinks it’s gold. Of course.”

That made things a little easier at least. Able to settle the piglin into his diaper rather quickly afterwards. Smiling as the baby repeatedly patted it in interest, otherwise making no protest. Until he was successfully distracted by the toys Wilbur had brought over. Holding each one and looking it over like a warrior inspecting a weapon as the older boy explained their vast history.

It gave Phil the chance to settle in finally. Surfing through the box until he found what he was looking for. Bottles and toddler sized dishware. Something that could tie him over until he dug the rest of Wilbur's old things out of storage or buy new ones.

Once it was all out of the box and in places he'd hopefully remember, he finally decided to tackle the elephant of the room and pulled the piglin back into his lap. Ignoring the protests from both boys at having their fun interrupted. 

This gave him the opportunity to look over the injured foot. Being growled at but he shushed the baby as he gently held the limb. 

"Is he going to die?"

"Wilbur, what is with you and death lately-no, it's just a bruise. It should heal in a few weeks."

"I don't want to lose my baby brother! He's my favorite!"

"...he's your only."

"So far." Wilbur corrected and Phil couldn't argue with that. Knowing himself, there'd be another little runt of the litter he'd wind up with in a few years time. Always struggling to say no to the most adorable eyes.

Instead he redirected the focus. "Do you know what big brothers do?" He asked Wilbur and smiled as the kid looked immediately interested. "They help their dads take care of the baby, so we got to set up a space for him! Want to help?"

He had never seen Wilbur so excited for anything in his life. Practically leaping to his feet with pride in his capabilities. Phil handed him the piglet, watching the boy struggle a little at first with the weight but adjusted soon enough. "I need to go get your old bed. Can you watch him for just a minute? Don't do anything you're not allowed to. In fact-why don't you sing him your favorite song?!"

That was something he knew Wilbur would love to do. The boy already stumbling towards their couch and depositing the baby on top of it. Crawling up beside him with a grin both mischievous and genuine. 

As Phil made his way to the storage area, he could hear the tell-tale melody starting up and he chuckled. 

The storage room was...messy, to say the least. Hard to navigate with chests and items scattered about. Old furniture piled up together in a manner that was almost creepy. He had been meaning to clean down here for years but never got around to it. 

It didn't take long to find what he was looking for of course. The crib was one of the largest things in there. Tucked in a corner behind a couple of boxes and only a few cobwebs and a layer of dust marring its condition. 

Took a bit of extra strength to pull it up and over the mess. Thinking better afterwards that he should've just moved the boxes. Hauling the bed upstairs and to his room and pausing to listen. He could still hear Wilbur singing and no screaming so he gave himself another minute before he checked on them. 

He took the small mattress out of the crib, grabbed a rag from the bathroom and wetted it to wipe it down. Bringing color back into the old wood and making quick work of the cobwebs. 

The bedding was musky but he could fix that with a quick scrub down in the bathroom. He tossed it inside, going to the closet of his room to retrieve some blankets. Holding them up to inspect them. 

Wilbur had a bad habit of pretty much mummifying himself as a baby so most of the blankets were light and easy to move. Perfect for a piglet that barely knew what linens even were. 

Everything he needed in place, he went to check on the kids and frowned when he found Wilbur alone. On the couch but still singing like nothing had changed.

"...Wil." He called and the kid looked up, tilting his head. "...where's the-where's your brother?"

Wilbur pointed towards the kitchen and as Phil turned to look, sure enough there was the little piglet. Crawling his way determined and trying to get in the drawers and cabinets. Hissing in frustration when he failed or his leg failed him. 

"I told you to watch him!" Phil groaned and raced forward to scoop up the baby as he managed to get a hold on a cabinet doorknob. Ignoring the downright offended squeal of fury he got in return.

"I did! I watched him go over there!"

...well, technically Wilbur was right. His dad just rolled his eyes and sighed, returning back to the couch. Sitting down carefully with the piglet in his lap. "Watching him means making sure he doesn't get into bad stuff, Wil."

"Oh." Wilbur nodded like he understood, but Phil doubted he did. Knowing that Wil's idea of what was bad and what wasn't was a little skewed. He'd blame himself for that. Morally gray as he was himself. "Is Techno's bed ready?!" 

"Almost, I just got to-" Phil paused and gave his son a look. "Techno???"

"Yeah!" Wilbur smiled and pointed at the piglet. "Techno!"

"I told you you can't name him, Wilbur."

"But he's Techno!" The child pouted, gesturing as if it was an obvious conclusion. "Like the music!" His logic did make Phil smile, even if the name was ridiculous. 

"We can't call him Techno, do you want to know why?" When the boy nodded, he held up the piglet. Who still looked royally offended at being held. "Piglins have special names in their culture. So we should name him something that goes with that!"

"What's...culll-jur?"

"Cul-ture." Phil repeated and Wilbur dutifully repeated it back. 

"Culture is what we call stuff that different people do and make their lives special." He cringed, unsure if he could properly convey this. Wilbur tilting his head in confusion and he sighed. "Okay uh...you...let's see here." He bit his lower lip, thinking about it. 

Then brightened and held up his hand. "What's daddy's favorite drink?" 

"BEER!"

Phil had to turn his head away as he burst into a laugh. Trying to muffle it when the piglin in his arms let out an alarmed squeak. "N-no!!!" He choked out, waving his hand in front of his face. "The one he drinks in the morning!" 

There was a pause as Wilbur thought it over before he brightened again. "Tea?!"

"Yes! Tea!" A deep breath, fighting back the laughter still threatening to come up. "Yes...tea. Where I come from, tea is a very important part of our culture." 

"Tea-chno!"

"No!" He barked a laugh again. Shaking his head as Wilbur looked more confused. As if he was understanding that the tea was the most important part of this conversation. "Okay, okay, so...Piglins are usually named...after weapons or...warriors...or violent things." He explained. Only knowing this because of what little information he could find on them. 

A pause and when Wilbur stared blankly at him, he offered, "We could name him something like...Blade!" 

"TECHNOBLADE!!!"

Phil set the baby down in his lap. Bringing both hands to his face with a groan. Falling back against the couch despite the discomfort it brought his pained wings. Both children staring at him before they exchanged looks. 

Wilbur gave a comical exaggerated shrug before he said, "Dad's not good at this."

Phil let out another sigh as he stood in the kitchen. Catching bits and pieces of the intense conversation Wilbur was having with Blade. He swears, he was going to stick to Blade. No matter how often his son insisted on Techno. Telling himself over and over again not to let Wilbur win this battle.

He didn't know for how long he'd have Blade. He didn't know exactly piglins aged or if in a year or so the little guy would want to be on his own. For all he knew, in sixth months there'd be a piglin family at his door. Looking for their son.

Yet, he also was keen on if he kept Blade here for any amount of time he'd treat him the way he was supposed to be treated. With his culture in tact as much as possible. Not ruining his future should he want to pursue life in the nether again.

A bit difficult already what with needing a diaper and clothing...and the fact this wasn't the nether. Not to mention the fact he wasn't an expert on piglins. No one was. Libraries in even the most educated cities had barely a book covering them. 

Professors saw little need to risk their lives and understand them. So only a base knowledge was given from a time in the past when a piglin had become the ally of a human. 

He's seen kids grow up without their culture. Without their history and he's seen it wreck them. Sure, not all kids want their culture. Some grow into adults that could care less. Others feel like a world was taken from them.

He should know. Being so far away from his homeland at times crushed him. Missing the way he could walk down paved roads and greet the mailman in the morning. Villages rarely held those luxuries. Just people trying to survive. 

Phil felt a tug on his pant leg and he glanced away from the soup he was stirring. Looking down at Wilbur who couldn't see over the counter just yet. Getting there way too fast. 

"What's up?"

"Can Techno have a knife?" 

"...why would I give Techno a knife." 

"He wants one."

Phil glanced over his shoulder at the baby. The baby in question who looked nothing of the sort. Who was preoccupied by touching a pillow on the floor. Running his hooved little hands over it as though he was fascinated by the texture. 

"...uh-huh, what makes you think that?" Wilbur didn't answer. Just held his hand out expectantly for the knife and Phil rolled his eyes. Shaking his head. "No knife, dinner is ready." An excuse as though he'd ever give a baby a knife. Wilbur accepted this reasoning however and darted back to retrieve his brother. 

Phil turned off the stove, turning around to help the boys. Plucking up the piglet with one arm carefully and then helping Wilbur into the chair that he designated as his own. Marked with a blue cushion made from Friend's wool. 

He carefully got a bowl for his son, setting it down with his sippy cup of fruit juice. Smiling as Wilbur almost immediately got some on his face somehow. Then grabbed a bigger bowl for himself and a bottle he had been heating up just in case. 

Sitting down in his own chair, he cradled the piglet until he was somewhat sat up and hesitated. Unsure of what to try first. He knew the little guy had teeth. His hand still throbbing from the bite earlier. Even if they weren't needed for soup it should mean that soup was fine for him to digest at this point. 

"Okay mate, let's give this a try." He muttered more to himself, grabbing the spoon and getting it maybe half-full. Bringing it close to the piglin's mouth. When Blade just stared at it, eyeing it suspiciously, he realized a flaw in this plan. 

"Ah, right. They probably don't have utensils in the nether." He brought the spoon up to his mouth instead. Exaggeratingly eating it. Showing the little guy how it was done. Then tried again. 

More suspicious staring. 

He repeated the motions three times, each time afterwards offering the spoon to the piglet until finally he got another reaction other than staring. A cautious hand reaching out for the spoon. To touch it and inspect it. He quickly emptied it back into the bowl before letting the baby have it. 

Blade seemed a bit fascinated by the reflectiveness of the utensil. Turning it this way and that and never taking his eyes off the main part. His hand curled around it like one would grip a sword rather than a spoon. 

He waved it once, twice, then launched it across the room. 

Wilbur burst into laughter so hard he nearly snorted juice out of his nose. 

"...okay, from now on, only I hold the spoon." Phil chuckled, moving to stand and retrieve it off the floor. As he did however and glanced to where it had clanged against the wall-he found nothing. A confused noise escaping him as he looked around.

He knows for a fact it had landed over there. He had been impressed by the throwing arm of the little guy. 

"Dad, what are you looking for?" Wilbur asked as he turned around in his seat to stare.

"The spoon. I'm sure it landed somewhere over here."

"Techno's got it!"

Phil paused at that, glancing to the baby in his arms. Sure enough there was the spoon. Grasped back tightly in his hand as though it had never left. Being jabbed at nothing. 

"Great...I'm going senile."

Wilbur didn't know what that meant but it didn't stop him from giggling. Phil deciding to take the spoon back either way and toss it in the sink. He didn't trust his mind with what he thought he saw and what he didn't. Better to be safe than sorry and not let the baby eat off a dirty spoon.

He retrieved a fresh one and sat back down. Going for a bit more of soup and holding it close to Blade's mouth. Gently prodding his snout to try and get him to open up. "C'mon little guy, just try some."

No success, now being met with a growl. He set the spoon back in his bowl. Retrieving the bottle instead. Surely, even if their cultures were so different, piglins had some sort of similar feeding for babies. 

He pressed the nipple to the piglet's lips and after a bit of struggling and a confused squeal, got it between them. Waiting as he watched Blade's eyes widen. Drawing it back for a brief moment and seeing a little tongue lick around his lips.

Phil smiled at the piglet and tried again, met with no resistance this time. Chuckling as the little hooves tried to hold the bottle closer. "At least that worked." He muttered and sat back against his chair to wait out the feeding. Shuffling a little to adjust his wings and avoid putting pressure on them. 

Mentally he ran through a checklist. Some of the stuff he had in storage was too old and worn to be used anymore. Not to mention he barely had anything yellow. Though Wilbur loved the color at times, he also loved many other colors and had a variety. 

Yellow was going to be a must to stop the resistance the baby threw at him often. 

More age appropriate foods and things to do would be better. A refresher course on childcare through a few books and every book he could grab about piglins. Maybe just pigs in general. 

Sorting out the village nearby was going to be another challenge. Hybrids, like himself, with animal features were nothing new and welcomed. Piglins however were dangerous. Even Mrs.Schlatt with her heart of gold saw that. 

He glanced at the piglet and almost wanted to laugh. The tiny thing was barely a threat. Broken wings aside. He looked about ready to fall asleep as he drank that bottle down. 

Despite that, he'd probably have to get written permission from his local areas to bring the baby around. Sign proper adoption forms and the like. Convince an entire world that this little guy was worth keeping around. 

The world loved children, he was just one that bites more than he cries. 

"Wilbur, I have to go into town tomorrow." He spoke up, watching the boy as he swirled some of the soup around. At the point of playing with it more than eating. "Do you want to go shopping with me or hang out with J?" 

"Is Techno going?"

"Blade," He corrected, fully ignored, "is coming with me yeah."

"Then I'll go with you too!"

That settled, he smiled, letting out a little sigh. Just to have the bottle make a weird noise and he glanced down. Surprised to find it empty already. He drew it away, getting a little protest whine, and looked it over. Not a single drop left. 

"I don't know if I should give you another one..." He admitted. Wilbur had been a half-bottle a feeding type of kid. Pushing it away when he was done. 

"He can have my soup!"

"Nice try, finish your dinner." Wilbur groaned dramatically but started eating again. Grumbling about how it didn't taste as fun as other food. Yet, the boy would at time eat sand. 

He turned his attention back to the piglet. Who was still trying to grab at the bottle. Growing more frustrated by the second with warning growls and snorts. Like he was preparing to fight for it. 

Phil relented finally, moving to stand. "Okay, okay, let me make a new bottle. Hopefully this isn't overfeeding you. Piglins might eat their body weight, I don't know." As he set it up, he felt the piglet squirm and try to climb out of his arm. Readjusting his hold to make sure he couldn't accomplish it. 

Just to nearly jump out of his skin when the little guy suddenly belched. A sound more akin to a roar than a tiny baby burp. If he didn't hear the gurgle that came with it and see the spit form on his snout, he'd assume the baby was just throwing a tantrum. 

He blinked down at Blade, biting his lower lip to fight back the laugh as the piglin looked just as startled as him. As if he's never once burped in his life and this was new. Eyes wide as can be and mouth popped open a tiny bit. Ears flat back and body tense. Looking around for the source. 

"Gods help the world if you ever get introduced to soda, mate."

Phil eventually got to eat his own dinner. Blade settled after his nearly third bottle. Only finishing half of it after he downed the second and burped a couple times more. His stomach full was clearly taking its toll. His eyes drifting close just to open right back up again anytime he heard a noise. 

The man did his best to eat quietly to try and let the baby sleep in his lap, apologizing when he had to stand and carry him along. Blade's tiredness let him give him a small bath. Getting the last remaining hidden patches of blood off his features. 

Let him place him in the crib without complaint.

Though the baby did look around his area with slight confusion. Hooves prodding at the mattress like he had never felt something so soft. Too tired to complain however and he soon flopped on his side, much like an actual pig would sleep.

"DAD!" Wilbur suddenly shouted, bursting into the room and both Phil and Blade jumped. The little guy squealing in protest at having been woken up already. When his father shushed him, the four year old listened. Even as he climbed up into the man's lap to get a better view inside the crib. 

Then he held up a blanket, offering it to Phil to put in there. 

It was red, soft almost like velvet. Huge, probably too big for the crib in reality but it was one of Wilbur's favorite blankets in the entire world. Something he used whenever he couldn't sleep. When there was a thunderstorm. Or when he wanted to build a fort.

Phil blinked at it, taking it in his hands and he gave a smile. "You sure you want to give Blade your blanket?" He asked, just to make sure. Not blaming his son if he didn't want to part with it after all.

Wilbur looked nervously. Hands wringing together as he frowned. Conflicted as can be but ultimately he nodded. "He needs it more." He said in explanation and Phil smiled wider. Kissing his son on the head as he carefully placed the blanket inside the crib.

Making sure it wouldn't trap the baby. 

Blade opened his eyes to look at it. Ears twitching as he stared at it. A hooved hand reaching to touch and marvel just like he had with the pillow. After a moment of inspection, he laid his head back down and snuggled closer underneath it. Settling to finally let sleep overtake him.

"Goodnight Techno." Wilbur whispered, a little louder than intended, as he peered into the crib. Letting his dad pick him up and carry him to his own room. Phil didn't even bother trying to correct him this time. Not wanting more noise to wake the baby. 

"You know Wilbur," He said once they were out of earshot. Setting the boy down in his bed. "You were a great big brother today." The boy lit up at the praise and he smiled back. "You did a few things wrong but you'll get the hang of it pretty soon."

"I'm going to be the best big brother ever."

"I'm sure you are."

Phil should've known better than to sleep through the night. 

Dreams filled with weird shapes and sizes, sounds and strange people. People he didn't recognize. Interrupted suddenly with the panicked squeaking of a pig. He sat up groggily. Blinking around his darkened room and momentarily forgetting he had a new son who made those noises.

He eventually stumbled out of bed. Yawned and trudged his way towards the crib. Leaning over to peer in at the piglet who was still asleep. Yet thrashing his limbs and squealing as though he was running away from his dreams. 

"Alright, alright, there there." Phil reached in, plucking the child up with blanket and all. Getting it under him in a loose wrap to cradle the baby. He walked back to his bed. Holding Blade close to his chest and rubbing his back gently. "Shhhh..."

The piglet woke up with the touch. Jolting awake with heavy breaths and looking on the verge of tears. Phil wouldn't mind if the baby cried. He was used to Wilbur's overdramatic wails from time to time. 

He smiled at the baby reassuringly, saw just the briefest hint of despair on that pig shaped face...and then...nothing. The piglet didn't cry. Instead, his face drew more blank in emotion. He closed his arms close to himself. Let himself be held without struggling but didn't snuggle into the man. 

Phil frowned as he watched this. Most babies wouldn't hesitate to find comfort in another person. Maybe Piglins didn't do that? He couldn't be sure but he had seen little children in the nether nagging their parents for attention. Surely they knew somewhat of this. 

...and he also wondered if Piglins were capable of crying. 

"I get nightmares too." He told the baby, continuing to rub and comfort him despite his lack of reaction. Figuring words were better than silence. "Most of it is about scary stuff that happened to me when I was younger..." A sigh. "...and of bad stuff happening to Wilbur."

He gave a pause, slowly stood and made his way towards the window in his room. Sitting in front of the glass and keeping that blanket safe around the piglet. So the cold seeping in wouldn't get to him. Tapping the glass to get his attention.

Blade looked and he could see those eyes widen. 

The night sky was fully visible out there. Not an ounce of light pollution taking away from its beauty. The moon full and reflected in the marsh water. Stars glittering every inch of the world otherwise plunged in darkness. 

He smiled as he watched Blade look on in fascination. His head turning this way and that to take in all that he could. A little noise escaping him so unlike his other ones that Phil thought for a moment he had broken the baby. 

A little hand reached to touch the glass. Gaze never leaving the moon now.

Phil chuckled and continued talking, "That's the moon. You know, there's an old story about it. That it was put there by people like you and me..." 

The story continued on into the night, until that baby was once again asleep in his arms. 

"No stealing." Phil reminded as they walked towards the village. Wilbur nodding along. Clutching his hand and bobbing his head as well to a song he had been humming. "We're here for Blade."

Said piglet was in his arms again. A little bit sleepy even if his eyes tracked everything around them. A miracle he accepted getting dressed in the yellow onesie Mrs.Schlatt had given them. Perfect for his tail thanks to her own son having one.

"What's on our to-do list?" The man asked and Wilbur almost stopped dead in his tracks to remember it. Nearly tripping when his dad kept going. 

"Uh...we gotta...get clothes!" 

"That's one thing!"

"...and uh...buy Techno!"

Phil snorted hard, shaking his head. "We're not buying BLADE." He put emphasis on the name. "We're adopting him, that's different. If have a paper that says he's part of our family, it'll be easier for him."

"But you gotta pay for the paper right?"

The man hesitated in a response to that. Knowing if he said yes, Wilbur would take it as a win. If he said no, he'd be lying and found out later when he had to actually pay. He glanced down at his son, who smiled up at him smugly and he sighed. 

"You're too smart for your own good."

The village appeared up ahead. Wilbur letting go of his hand to run forward. Not straying too far but setting his sights on the group of kids playing just outside the border. A few Phil recognized instantly.

Namely George, a boy whose family was from nearby his homeland, and Dream...a kid he couldn't even begin to understand. George looked every bit normal, save for the oversized sunglasses he wore on the regular. A gift from his dad that was his most treasured possession.

He was the same age as Wilbur and the two occasionally hung out while Phil shopped. 

Dream on the other hand was an enigma. He's never met Dream's parents. Never seen where the kid lives. Doesn't know his age though he's similar in size to the other boys. The entire village had zero information on him but given he was a kid, they let him stay without worry.

Even if he was a creepy child that hid all of his features save for his hands behind a hoodie and mask. 

As he walked up, he caught the tail end of the conversation. Wilbur proudly bragging about his new little brother. Pointing to the piglet when Phil got close enough.

George pulled his sunglasses up, squinting somewhat at the child and Dream just tilted his head much like an owl would. 

"Good morning boys." Phil greeted and George chimed back with the same. Glancing at Dream when the boy said nothing and nudging him. 

"...Dream, that's Mr.Minecraft." He whispered, loud as Wilbur when he does, and Dream didn't make any sign of acknowledgement. Unimpressed with the name. Phil paid it no mind, snorting a little.

He didn't mind if someone didn't revere him like usual. It was odd enough hearing his last name after all this time.

"This is Techno!" Wilbur introduced his brother and Phil sighed, bringing a hand up to rub the bridge of his nose.

"Wilbur, we're not calling him Techno. His name is Blade."

"Technoblade." His son corrected and Phil gave up at that point. Deciding just to crouch down to let the kids meet the baby. 

George waved shyly at Blade, the piglin blinking back at him curiously. Only to turn his attention to Dream. Staring at his mask with such intensity that Phil was sure he was going to try and break it like his wing. 

"Hello Technoblade." Dream finally spoke. Though that was all he said and he turned to walk away. George apologizing to Phil as he tore off after his friend. 

"Dream is weird!" Was Wilbur's conclusion, starting to walk back down the path into the village.

"Wilbur..."

"He's got no face!!!!"

"No, he just hides it. We don't call people weird just because they look different, remember?" Wilbur nodded along, not really listening but agreeing either way and getting distracted by the sheep pen they passed. "Alright, let's head to the capitol first so we can introduce Tec-" He cut himself off, scowling. "BLADE first and get him adopted."

They passed by people, who waved or greeted them. Most barely noticing the new addition in his arms that watched them warily. Those that did only paused for a moment before going on about their day. Not too concerned with a man like Phil holding a piglin.

As they walked by the bakery, Blade perked up in his arms and he hesitated. Slowing to a stop as that little snout sniffed curiously. When Wilbur stopped ahead of him, he pointed to the shop and saw his son brighten immediately.

"Good morning Phil!" The woman called over the counter as he entered, smiling ear to ear as Wilbur rushed to the counter. An emerald in his grasp after he insisted on paying. "And good morning to you too Wilbur!" She leaned forward so she could see him better. "What will it be today?"

"We'd like the stuff that smells really good!" He explained, slamming the emerald up where she could see it. She laughed and nodded, taking it to put in her register while she retrieved what she had recently baked.

As she showed them the fluffy muffins and Wilbur was telling her all about his new brother, she glanced at the baby and hummed. Counting out two muffins for Phil and Wilbur and then going back to her to kitchen.

Soon coming out with a tiny muffin half the size of the others. 

Phil was surprised to say the least, staring at it as she held it out. His lips soon cracked into a smile however. "Thank you..." He said softly and offered the treat to the baby. Who grasped it and sniffed at it curiously. 

"Hey, a customer is a customer. No matter how small or..." She paused, tilting her head at the little piglin. "...how far they come from." She finally said and offered him a smile back. "I think he'll fit right in. Just give everyone time."

Then she crossed her arms, "Besides, I don't think he can manage to do worse than Wilbur."

They both looked to the child in question. Who had somehow...somehow managed to turn a muffin into a mess beyond comprehension. 

"Good luck with that one, Phil."


	3. Kids are weird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title really sums it all up.

Phil stared at the paper in his hands. Feeling the gray hairs settling in from stress. He let loose a sigh that he hoped would exhale all of it but to no avail. 

Adoption paper? Easy. Though he got strange looks for what species he was adopting and a few extra questions to fill out. In the end however, the village trusted him. Deeming that if anyone could raise a piglin, it'd be him.

What had gone wrong however, was when it came to the name. 

Wilbur had been as helpful as ever. Quick as a flash answering for Phil with a loud shout of "TECHNO!" that echoed across the room. Of course, he corrected it to Blade.

Now he held a paper that had the name listed as 'Technoblade'.

He'll deal with that later. Preferably when the cause of this trouble wasn't there. Now sat on the grass with the piglin in question while his father took over the bench nearby.

It was a cute scene. Between Wilbur talking nonsense about something he just made up and tying grass together and Blade running his hands through the new texture. Clear in the fact he had never truly touched grass before this moment. 

And smashing any bug that dared cross his path with a violent tendency. 

Phil tried not to think about how easily decapitation came to a toddler.

Occasionally, even worse, Blade would offer the corpse of one of his bugs to Wilbur. As if it was some grand gift bestowed upon him. The kid would grimace occasionally. Gag but hold it back and thank his brother for the disturbing offer. Chucking the body the moment the piglin looked away.

Was giving trophies of war a thing piglins did? Phil didn't know. It was becoming more apparent however he would really need to catch up on as much information as he could about the species as a whole. 

He stood then, grunting as he pushed himself up. Young but feeling the age of his old battles. Walking over to the kids and crouching down at their level. "Alright, you two ready to head off? I think we should stop at the library first."

Wilbur jumped to his feet, stumbling a little and latching onto his father's arm as he did. The man making sure he was steady before he let him go. Then he reached for the baby and was met with an angry growl.

Blade glaring at him to show he wasn't ready to leave yet. 

Phil had to fight a laugh at that. Knowing he could easily pick up the piglet without any trouble and end this little standoff. He let Blade have a little bit longer however. 

Watching as a few more bugs fell victim to his attention and then he scooped the child up. He had to wrestle a bit to keep a hold on Blade but eventually the piglet settled in his grasp. Reluctantly. 

The library wasn't a far trip away. Settled close to the center of the village and a small place regardless. There wasn't bound to be much on piglins here but Phil would take all that he could. 

Wilbur looked around as they entered, boredom slightly evident on his features. Practically having to be dragged in by his father. He didn't hate books but reading wasn't his strong point yet. 

He was mostly good with small words and sentences dragged on too long for his focus. 

Yet, he tugged on Phil's sleeve a few steps in and when the man looked down at him he looked like he was about to start a tantrum. "What's wrong Wilbur?"

"...can I get a book?"

Phil paused walking, blinking down at his son. Was this some sort of trick?

"...what was that?"

"Can I get a book?" His son...wanted a book to read? He reached his hand up. To feel that forehead hidden behind a mop of hair. Wilbur pouting underneath it. 

No fever at least. 

That didn't explain the strange behavior. 

His son was growing impatient. Glaring at him now and fidgeting. He came back to his senses and cleared his throat. "Uh-yeah! Yeah of course you can! ...why."

Wilbur didn't answer, just broke away immediately and made a beeline for the kids section. Only one other child in the area at the moment and he paid them no mind. Phil stared after him, shook his head to try and focus again and then turned towards the small non-fiction section. 

The books were divided into small shelves. Labeled with scratchy handwriting that would've taken a few minutes to decipher if he hadn't been here a few times before. Eventually spotting the Nether area. 

Only six books total there. More than the End but less than the overworld sections. 

He looked around and spied a chair nearby. Tucked back in the corner that would've felt crowded if this place was busier. Adjusted his hold on Blade and grabbed all six books before he moved to sit down. 

Plopping the baby in his lap as he read the title of the first one. 

"Oop, definitely don't need Fungus guides." He set that on a side table and picked up the next one. This one probably had more to offer. Being about the different biomes found in the nether. 

He thumbed through the book, eyes glancing over each chapter. 

There was various photographs in the book. Which grabbed the interest of the piglet who would occasionally make a noise and Phil would pause on that page. Letting Blade look it over. 

The piglet seemed most interested in the fortress and bastion photos. Made sense, in a way. Better terrain for his kind. Looking practically like cities. 

Sadly, the book ended up being a dud outside of describing the locations in decent detail. No information about the piglins or other mobs themselves. He was going to close it and put it in the pile he was creating but ultimately ended up just giving it to the baby. 

Who settled against him and flipped pages back and forth curiously. 

Phil smiled to himself as he went for the next book. "How to survive the nether. Been there, done that." He set the book in the pile, snorting a little in amusement. He practically helped write that one. The author sent him so many letters.

The next one he went to pick up got immediately knocked out of his hands. Causing him to nearly jump and knock the baby off his lap. 

When his heart settled however, he looked at Blade who glared down at the book. Growling at it. The baby certainly couldn't read, so the cover must've upset him. 

Which it was a book about potion ingredients from both the Nether and End. On the front was artistic depictions of ghasts, potions, and the enderdragon herself. 

Ah, the ghasts. That must be it. 

"Oookay, well I didn't need that book either way." He reached to pet the piglet as he retrieved the book off the floor. Keeping it out of reach of the baby who tried to smack it back to the floor. He put it onto the pile and quickly shifted Blade to his other side. 

Far enough away he couldn't get to the book to further express his distaste. 

With a final growl, the baby turned back to the book still in his own grasp. Staring at the photos and occasionally babbling little pig noises to himself. 

"Two left." Phil sighed and then picked up the next one. Far more promising than the others. Direct information about the creatures themselves in the nether. 

Even better when he found at least six chapters devoted solely to piglins. 

Wilbur came rushing up to his side at that moment. Holding a book tightly in his grasp. Practically scrambling up his lap and under his arms to take his free side. It was much harder to hold the book now with it being so crowded in the chair. 

So he checked the last book for what it might hold within and settled on taking just the one home with him. 

"Find a book?" He asked Wilbur, who nodded but didn't show him it. It had a bright cover, big letters, and he could see the spine had ages listed that were appropriate so he didn't pry. Instead turning to focus back on Blade. 

He had to take that book away now and he expected a fight. 

"Can I have that, little guy?" He reached for the book and was a bit surprised when it was relinquished. Feeling that was a bit too easy to do. "Thank you." He said regardless and moved so the kids could have the chair and he could put the books back. 

Books settled, he turned back. Catching the tail-end of Wilbur showing the book cover to Blade. Whispering "look, look!" before he saw his father and hid it again. 

"Ready for shopping?"

"We gotta hurry!" Wilbur demanded, climbing back off the chair. Taking his father's hand and tugging him. "Grab Techno, we gotta go!"

"Okay, okay. Let's check out these books and then we'll go to the stores." 

They eventually managed to get out of the library with the two books. A struggle when Wilbur was suddenly determined to get things done as fast as possible. Refusing to let his father put the book in his bag.

Carrying it the entire time like a treasure and impatiently whining whenever they weren't moving fast enough. 

Phil tried not to let any frustration show. Knowing that this was just how kids were sometimes. Thankful that his son knew to quiet down in the tailor's store at least. 

"Hello Phil, Wilbur, and-" The woman behind the counter cut off her sentence. Pausing her crocheting and nearly dropping the hook. She stared at the baby in Phil's arms. Momentarily stunned. 

"....er...who is this?" She managed the best she could once the initial shock wore off. 

"Techno!" Wilbur supplied at the same time Phil said "Blade."

"Well, uh...welcome to the village T-technoblade." This was going to be a recurring issue, Phil just knew it. 

"We won't be in your hair for long." The man sighed, setting the baby on the counter. Who looked around at the various fabrics and tools lining the walls. "I just really need a decent supply of clothes for this little guy."

"Oh! ...right. What are you thinking about?"

"Yellows if you could. Or at least yellow somewhere on them. I definitely need quite a few onesies and a coat. Maybe something that can comfortably hide his prominent features?" He glanced at the baby. 

The ears and tail would be easy to hide but the pig face would be a struggle. For whatever reason if he had to take Blade to a big city, he'd need to however. 

The tailor was up on her feet. Grabbing a measuring tape as she nodded along to his words. Humming a little each time she managed to get it around the boy's body without a struggle. It helped it was yellow in color. 

"I'll do my best. At the rate J goes through clothes, it won't be much trouble. I'm used to the task."

She looked at the little hooves, humming as she measured them quick too. "I'll see what I can do about shoes too."

"Thank you."

"Anything else?"

"Blankets."

"Yellow?"

"Yes."

She laughed, writing down the measurements. "I'll send you a letter when they're ready. Won't be long for most of it. I'll focus on the most important ones." She paused, looked past the man and called out, "Wilbur honey, don't eat those!"

"Wil!"

Phil was exhausted by the time he made it to the general store. The minute he exited the tailor Wilbur was back into his rushing mode. Not listening to the calming voice of his father. 

A headache was edging on his temples and he was debating stopping by the village healer for a cure before it got worse. 

"Good morning Phil and Wil!" The owner called. Wilbur raced forward towards the candy, immediately being rewarded with one. Just what he didn't need, sugar. 

"Who's this?" The man chuckled as Phil stepped up with Blade in his arms. 

"Techno." Phil answered, not even catching his mistake and setting the baby on the counter. Rolling his shoulder that was also growing stiff from being tugged around. "Please tell me you have a good surplus of baby supplies in."

"Sure do, tis the season." A green head poked over the counter. Just barely able to see with the help of their height and a loud hiss echoed into the front of the store. Phil stepped back automatically, pulling Wilbur with him. 

It helped calm the little creeper hybrid, who smiled brightly when they did. 

"Hi Sam!" Wilbur waved and then the child stepped around the counter to greet his friend. One of the few 'odd' kids that Wilbur didn't make comments about. Despite being a four legged, two armed, green coated boy. 

Once thoroughly distracted, Phil stepped back by Blade and leaned on the counter. Sam's father immediately going through his stock of what he had. 

It was a decent supply. Enough that he could thumb through the various objects until he found the yellows he looked for. Aided by the baby on the counter who tossed anything that wasn't the appropriate color to the floor. 

Wilbur and Sam making a game of it to try and catch what was thrown. 

"Think he's going to get tusks?" 

"Not for a while hopefully."

"Then allow me to present you with the holy grail. The pinnacle of parenting. The best thing to happen to all of us." The man held out a yellow pacifier and Phil had to fight back the laughter. 

Sometimes he missed Wil's pacifier days. 

"Nook, you're a blessing."

"You'd be surprised how often I hear that." The man laughed, leaning on the counter. "Sam's been hissing more lately and it's driving me up a wall. I'm glad he's setting boundaries but it doesn't stop my neighbors from screaming thinking they're about to lose their house."

There was a tug on Phil's pantleg and he glanced down. Wilbur looking up at him excitedly. "Dad, can I go see the dead horse?"

What. 

He looked to Nook, who cringed. "...and then there's that. Uh...Sam accidentally blew up a horse the other night. He's...not letting me get rid of it."

Phil looked back to his son, who still looked like he was about to bust out the puppy dog eyes. Well, at least it'd keep his kid from rushing him. "Promise me you won't try to eat it?"

"Promise!"

"Alright. Sam, make sure he keeps that promise."

The creeper kid practically purred at that, grabbing Wilbur's hand and dragging him out of the store. Their voices fading around the corner as both Phil and Nook shared loud sighs. Blade looking between them at the noises. 

"I'm not ready for this." Phil admitted. "It seemed like a good idea at the time but Wilbur is still so much to deal with and I'm not ready to try and pry dead horses out of my second son's collection."

He looked to Blade, who was still clutching a yellow bowl with determination to never let it go. Smiling despite what he just said. "...but he needs me."

"Don't get too violent as you grow older, okay bud?" He added, reaching to pet the piglet.

"Heh, he's a piglin ain't he? Good luck with that." Nook went to grab a bag. Piling stuff up into it that Phil had picked out. Leaving the bowl in the kid's hand. "But hey, if you need any help. I'm always here. You're one of the few around here that will finally understand my pain."

Yeah, having a destructive hybrid kid? Phil would finally see how Nook's shoes fit. 

With a promise to pick up anything too large the next morning Phil left with his hands juggling the bags. Twisting them around his wrist as he clutched the baby to his chest. 

There was no sign of Wilbur outside which meant that it would probably be a few minutes before the boy finally got bored of the horse. "Okay, let's find somewhere to sit and take a rest. Figure out how I'm going to get two kids home."

He plopped down on the grass dramatically after dropping his bags. Only to immediately sit up straight as pain shot through his wings again. Groaning as he rubbed around his shoulders. "...right, and maybe look into a few healing potions before we go."

Glancing down at the baby in his lap who was already trying to escape back to the grass. The bowl now abandoned for the adventure. 

"Bug squishing again ay?" Not much conversation to be had as he was of course ignored. "What a life you lead."

It was then that he felt his feathers ruffle. A tingle crawl up his spine as though something evil was nearby. Every instinct in his body firing off that he should be on the defensive. 

He reached for a weapon that wasn't there and snapped his head in the direction of the feeling. Just to screech in alarm as he came face to face with all too familiar creepy mask.

Dream stood there silently next to him. Not even flinching at his yell. 

Phil brought a hand to his heart as he tried to calm for a second. Feeling it thudding violently against his chest. "...hello Dream." He managed after what felt like minutes of silence. 

He glanced up at the boy, who remained silent, and asked, "What can I do for you?"

Dream didn't answer. Instead he pulled something closer to him. An empty wagon, sturdy and made for children. He dropped the handle, tilted his head in what could best be a nod, and then was gone. Walking back to whatever shadows he appeared from. 

Phil stared after him, glancing between the now empty space and the wagon. 

"...THANK-YOU!" He called out once he regained any sense of what just happened but got no response. "Well that solves one problem. Thank goodness for creepy cryptic children. As long as I don't adopt them."

He was suddenly smacked in the face by a dead cricket. Jumping a little but thankfully not as much as he had with Dream. Looking back to the baby who had already started a new war on insects. 

At least twenty dead lay on his clothes and the ground around him. The newest victim in his grasp being squeezed until it burst and Phil couldn't even tell what type of insect it had been. 

Blade held the remains a little proudly. What could best be described as a smile on his face as he looked down at the mess. Then he closed one hand around it tightly, rolled onto all fours and started crawling his way closer to Phil.

"Careful now, your leg." Phil reminded him, reaching out to help him the rest of the way. Just to pause as he realized Blade wasn't limping. No hesitation each time he put his bad leg down. 

Once he was in Phil's lap, he presented him the kill. Much like how he had been doing with Wilbur. 

"Thanks." He noted absentmindedly, not even really paying attention to himself as he was tucking the carcass in his pocket. Reaching to pick up the piglet instead and take hold of that busted leg. 

Luckily the onesie was open in the foot area for hooves and he could easily pull the cloth back. Revealing a fully healed, unmarred, perfect little pig foot. 

"CLERIC! MASTER CLERIC!!!" 

He burst into the church, slamming the large doors open by accident. Startling every person in the pews who whirled back to look at him. He abandoned the wagon full of stuff, racing up the aisle towards the podium. 

Where said Cleric stood dumbfounded. Her glasses askew from when she had jumped just like her congregation. She leaned over the podium as he approached her, panting, piglet held up in his grasp.

"Good heavens, Philza! What in the world is with you?!" 

"M-master Cleric-" He was out of breath, stuttering his words. "Your apprentice...the boy...who...knows healing..."

Her face paled a little, apologizing to her church as she quickly ushered him aside. To a separate room where she closed the door and there was indeed a young man. Sat reading a book at a table. Looking up confused. 

"What's broken?!" She demanded. "Where are you hurt?! Are you sick?! Did you bring a plague?! So help me, Philza Minecraft, if you brought a plague into my church-"

"No!" He managed, setting the piglet on the table. "No plague-! I'm a little hurt but that's besides the point!"

"Besides the point-how hurt are you?!" 

"His wings, Mam."

"Oh good heavens, Philza! Take a seat and let us heal those!"

"No!" He barked, then apologized when he noticed how offended she looked and he gestured to Blade. "I'm not here for me. I'm here for him."

"What's wrong with the baby? Were you in a battle?"

"He had a crushed foot!"

"...had?" The apprentice noticed his wording and stood, making his way around the table to stand beside Phil. "...what do you mean had?"

"That's it! He had a crushed foot! I don't know how fast piglins heal but it should've taken weeks, months! To heal it! It happened a day ago! Only a day! And now...he's perfectly healed!" He showed the leg. "There's not even a sign it was crushed!"

After a moment of quiet, with both cleric and apprentice staring between him and the baby, he slumped into the nearest seat. "...I knew it. I'm going senile."

"Psh, you're too young for that!" The cleric rolled her eyes but went to fetch him some tea regardless. In the hopes it'd settle his nerves. "And you're not one for lying, so I'm going to assume what you're blathering on about is correct."

The apprentice reaches for the baby, asking permission before he touches him and then lifts him up to study that leg closer. Balancing him on his hip like a practiced sibling. 

The tea was soon placed in front of him, the cleric muttering something about being tempted to spike it. Busying herself back out to her congregation to stamp out any worries. 

He manages three sips before that apprentice is back at his side. Looking down at him curiously. "Mr.Minecraft?"

When he gave an acknowledging grunt, they nodded. "Uh...sorry if this is a rude question but...have you been feeding the baby regeneration potions?" 

"...no?" Phil tilted his head. "...why?"

"Well, he is a piglin...right?"

"Yes. I'm sure of it."

"...and he's in the overworld."

It takes a while for him to process that. For what the apprentice was getting at. His eyes widening in horror as realization struck him like a brick wall.

Piglins couldn't go into the overworld.

They become corrupted, die, melt into zombies that know nothing beyond roaming and flesh. 

He had sentenced the baby to death without thinking twice about it. The thought of how this child could slowly be turning twisting his stomach in knots. His hand flew to his face and the apprentice could read his expression. 

"AH! Sir, don't panic! Uh...I mean...he's...got no signs of corruption. That's why...that's why I asked? About the potions?"

"Are you sure?! Is he really alright?! Oh god, I should get him back to the nether-"

The door opens and a church helper offering an awkward smile as they pulled in Wilbur. "We...uh...found this one outside." 

Phil groaned, putting face in his hands as he sat back down hard in the chair. "...I'm a terrible father."

"That's okay." Wilbur said, trotting up like he hadn't been completely forgotten about. Still clutching the book in his grasp. Arms swaying in an exaggerated manner. He waltzed right up to his father and climbed into his lap. "I still like you."

"Thanks, kiddo. Let me know how you feel when you're sixteen." Phil patted that mop of hair. Barely tucked under the beanie and then paused to sniff his son. Cringing at the awful odor wafting off of him. 

Definitely going to be a bath time when they get home. 

"Look, Mr.Minecraft Sir." The apprentice grabbed his attention again. Still gently bouncing Techno on his hip. The baby almost being lured into a nap with this. Eyes occasionally fluttering closed. 

"I won't try and stop you from taking him back to the nether but...as far as I can tell, he's perfectly healthy. There's zero signs of corruption or injury, he's got a good color, and he's got bright eyes." The young man smiled. 

"I'm telling you, his leg was-"

"I don't doubt you sir! Piglins are...unique creatures." He put an emphasis on 'unique' trying not to be rude in front of the kids. "...for all we know, they've evolved healing we haven't understood yet."

He held the baby out then, Phil taking him carefully and was met with the biggest yawn. "...now let me get you a potion for your wings." 

Wilbur reached to poke the baby. Earning a little swat from the hooved hand. A weak barely audible growl coming through that screamed 'no, nap time'. The boy just smiled, laughed, and did it again. 

Phil got his son to stop by the time the potion was placed in front of him. Labeled 'Regeneration' and shimmering a vibrant pink in color. He pocketed it rather than drinking it there. Knowing some potions could give you a hangover like feel. 

"Thank you for your help."

"Anytime!"

They left far quieter than they had entered though the church still watched them curiously. 

He managed to get Techno wrapped up in a blanket. Cursing mentally when he realized he had started referring to the baby as Techno rather than Blade. Yet he didn't voice it. Sure he'd switch back in no time. 

Tucked him into the wagon and Wilbur insisted on pulling it on the walk home. His father gladly taking a box out of it when it was too heavy for the kid. 

"Is Techno going to sleep all day?" The boy pouted as he occasionally looked back at the baby. 

"He had a really long day, Wil. He probably needs a good nap." Phil smiled, seeing just how impatient the kid was to play. "I'm sure he'll wanna see you first thing when he wakes up." It seemed to lift Wilbur's spirits a little. 

"Good, I've got plans."

"Oh?"

"It's a secret!"

"Okay, okay!" It probably had something to do with that book. And the muttering that was too loud not to listen on the entire way home. Plans that involved the biggest pillow Wilbur could find and fire. 

He'd have to keep a lookout tonight. 

They made it home with little incident. Though Phil could've sworn they were being watched at some point. Carrying the wagon inside to prevent Wilbur from capsizing it on the stairs. 

"Alright, I'm going to put Techno-BLADE in his crib and then you're getting a bath."

"How come Techno doesn't need one?!"

"Because he didn't mess with a dead horse." Phil sighed, scooping the baby up and pausing only to set his potion out of reach of his older son. He safely placed the piglet in the crib, getting just the softest of grunts in return.

When he returned to the kitchen, he found Wilbur staring at the potion. A wide smile on his face. 

"What's that look for?"

"It's the same color as Techno!"

He reached for the bottle. Picking it up to look at the pink liquid inside. Snorting a bit to himself. "Yep they're both pink!"

"And they glow!"

He gave Wilbur a confused look at that. About to ask him to elaborate but the boy seemed to realize a bath was next. Sticking out his tongue and taking off out of the house and into the backyard. 

Phil gave him a three second head start.


End file.
